to happen."
"It may blow a little fresh," was the reply. "That's all. The barometer
doesn't seem disturbed."
"I must be wrong then," said Colin, suppressing a yawn, "but I have a
queer sort of excited feeling."
"Better take it out in sleep," was the advice given him. "We're all
going to turn in soon. Even if you did get a nap this afternoon, you
ought to be tired after last night."
The boy could see nothing to be gained by arguing the point, and there
was nothing special to do, so he waited a few minutes and then went up
to his room, though he had never felt less like sleeping. He got into
bed, however, but tossed about uneasily for hours, the distant roaring
of the seals on the rookery and other unaccustomed noises keeping him
awake. And ever, through it all, Colin was conscious of this
presentiment of some trouble on hand. Suddenly, this feeling rushed over
him like a flood and, impelled by some force he could not resist, he
sprang from bed and hurried to the window.
The fog had thinned considerably, but it was still so misty that he
could only just see the edge of the bleak shore where the little waves
rolled in idly, looking gray and greasy under the fog. He leaned his
arms on the sill, but aside from the seal-roar, everything seemed
peaceful and the lad was just about to turn away from the window in the
feeling of miserable anger that comes from being tired but not able to
sleep, when he saw a flash of light.
Startled, and with every nerve stimulated to alertness, he watched, and
again he saw the light. Straining his eyes Colin could just distinguish
the figure of a man with a gun on his shoulder and a lantern in his
hand, making his way to the coast end of the village.
"Some one who has been making a night of it!" the boy muttered to
himself with a short laugh, and got back into bed.
But the figure of the man with the gun and the lantern in his hand had
impressed itself on his mind, and though he tried to dismiss the idea
and go to sleep, every time he closed his eyes he seemed to see the man
go walking silently through the village. Presently he sat bolt upright
in bed.
"The native huts are all at the other end of the village!" he said half
aloud, with a surprised suspiciousness. "Why was he going that way?"
The boy rose and went back to the open window. It seemed to him that
there was more tumult from the rookery than when he had listened half an
hour before, but it occurred to him that thi
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